Our Lady of Vengeance
by corvusdraconis
Summary: [Summary] [AU/Crossover] Hermione has been used and abused for much of her life, starting with her parents disowning her the moment they found out she was a witch. Things culminate by her third year when Sybill Trelawney spouts a new prophecy during Divination Class: beware the Brightest, the young Goddess of Vengeance. [Hermione/Loki]


**[Summary]** [AU/Crossover] Hermione has been used and abused for much of her life, starting with her parents disowning her the moment they found out she was a witch. Things culminate by her third year when Sybill Trelawney spouts a new prophecy during Divination Class: beware the Brightest, the young Goddess of Vengeance. [Hermione/Loki]

 **Beta Love: The Dragon and the Rose, Dutchgirl01, Flyby Commander Shepard**

 **A/N: This starts out a little differently, but I'm sure you'll understand why.**

 **Our Lady of Vengeance**

 _Plenty sit still. Hunger is a wanderer._

 _\- Zulu Proverb_

"She's _beautiful_ , Heimdall," Frigga cooed as she smiled down on the baby girl in the bassinet. "I'm glad to see that your wife has allowed you keep little Marit with you today."

She sighed as Thor smashed his brother over the head with his rattle, and Loki used a spurt of magic to konk his brother over the head with a chunk of ice. "Hopefully better behaved than these two."

Heimdall snorted, crossing his arms. "Would that take so very much, my Queen?"

"No, my friend, it would not," Frigga chuckled, reseating her pouty-faced Thor into his own bassinet. Thor smashed his rattle into the side of the bassinet until it escaped his grip and ricocheted off of Heimdall's forehead.

Heimdall frowned at the blond baby. "That one is born to be trouble."

Frigga shook her head, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "Loki is already showing signs of an affinity for magic just as Thor is showing signs of wanton destruction of objects by throwing other objects at them."

"Do you have a preference?" Heimdall asked, his eyebrows raising as wrinkles formed around his eyes.

Frigga waved her hands. "Magic I understand much better than wanton violence against innocent objects. I'm sure that makes my husband glad that Thor is someone he understands much better."

"My Queen, are you accusing our King of being prone to acts of violence?"

"Well, he _is_ a god of war as much as poetry," Frigga answered with a wink. "Have you finally decided on a name?"

Heimdall let out a sigh. "I think we finally settled on Marit."

"Well, she _is_ a precious pearl," Frigga said knowingly, standing up straight from tickling little Marit under the chin.

Loki had tumbled out of his bassinet with the help of some magical coercion. He crawled over to the nearby bassinet next to Heimdall's foot and tugged on the edge, tipping it over just enough to crawl inside. The lip of the bassinet flipped back over "helping" the baby Loki the rest of the way in. He stole the other baby's blanket and curled up next to Heimdall's daughter, sucking his thumb.

Marit's face scrunched up, wrinkles forming around her eyes. One of her chubby hands shot out and slugged Loki on the shoulder and there was a brief blast of flame, just enough to get Loki to let go of the blanket. She then touched the blanket and it promptly elongated and then became thrice as fluffy, more than enough to share between the two of them.

Heimdall and Frigga exchanged significant glances.

Heimdall's expression seemed both surprised and proud, his golden eyes glowing radiantly. "Well, my wife's family _did_ warn me what would happen if I married Kenna— her being a fire spirit and all."

"I think you just didn't take them seriously," Frigga said with no little amusement.

Heimdall looked sheepish. "I didn't think she meant she was a fire spirit— literally."

"Hopefully your parents will take care to instill your baby sister with more in the way of forethought," Frigga teased.

Heimdall averted his eyes, shaking his head. "As I understand it, baby Sif has already tried to explore father's weapons cabinet, much as Thor likes smash random things with other things."

"Perhaps they should meet," Frigga mused. "Then again, perhaps we should take care to smash-proof the palace first."

Heimdall snorted. "Perhaps. Kenna is finally restless enough to allow Marit in another's care, but part of me thinks she just wants someone else to be as hyper vigilant as she feels she has to be.

"Surely not as vigilant as with these two," Frigga said, pressing the button on Thor's bassinet to keep him from crawling out or throwing more things at Heimdall— or anyone else.

The golden-eyed Asgardian snorted. "If you would believe my wife, my Queen, Marit is the incarnation of fire itself. More so than she ever was, if the stories are to be believed from her parents."

"Not all fire burns," Frigga said thoughtfully, rubbing her chin with her fingers. Her gaze did not miss how the auras of the two babies in the shared bassinet blazed with a icy blue fire. Just for a moment, Loki's skin shifted into a deep cobalt blue as the babies' foreheads touched. For once, Loki's restlessness seemed to ease, and he snuggled up to his compatriot in bassinet dwelling. "If you would believe this, that is the first time I've seen Loki settle without punching his brother or smacking him with some sort of icy magic."

Heimdall's lips quirked. "Don't tell my wife that Marit is actually sleeping peacefully. I think she expected me to suffer all day and come screaming back to her."

"You, Heimdall? Since when have you ever shirked your duties?"

Heimdall shrugged at his Queen. "I wouldn't know. Well, there was that month when I got married and had a child."

Frigga laughed. "There are times I wish you were not so good at your job so that my husband would not insist that you are the only one who can stand guard over the Bifröst," she said wistfully. "You deserve time away from this place. Even the All-Father does not sit upon his throne at all times."

Heimdall shrugged. He tickled his daughter's chin, and she blinked her tiny golden eyes at him. "Perhaps, she will get to spend more time with her father when Kenna realises the job is not bringing the Bifröst down with our daughter's mischief."

"They are not even a hundred years old," Frigga said. "One could question how much mischief a child less than a hundred could possibly get into."

Heimdall's eyes blazed. "My queen, I believe you know full well what an Asgardian child of less than a hundred can get into."

Frigga grinned. "Perhaps, I do."

Frigga pushed Thor's bassinet over to be next to the shared one of Loki and Marit and smiled as rare moment of peace settled on her two sons.

"I also know what child of little over a thousand may do thinking they are grown."

Heimdall took in a breath and let it out slowly. "Not for a while, yet, my queen."

"For now, let us rejoice in a moment's peace," Frigga said, staring at the bassinets and then the vast stars beyond the Bifröst.

The three babies slept on.

* * *

 _Time passed— the mere blink of an eye for an Asgardian, perhaps something rather longer for those outside of the cycle of Ásgarðr. The Realms aged and so too did the children. Yet time was a strange thing for those who counted their lifetimes in thousands. Three babies grew and to become toddlers who then became children. But some would say any any children of Ásgarðr were more than simple children._

 _They were, after all, children of the gods._

* * *

We have three types for you to choose from this time, King Odin," the woman said, gesturing to the cages. "The fierce, the loyal, and the ones you place in front of something you never want anyone to get close to, even your own people."

"No middle ground with your space dragons are there, breeding Dragonmaster Vishon?" Odin said, tapping the patch of his eye.

"Space dragon genetics are a very strange thing, King Odin," she said with a grin, a flash of her pointed teeth showing in her smile. "We do have other lines, but they are the family guardian lines bred to be nurturing and protective to their respective families, but they make terrible border guards. Each of the lines have been carefully crossed to keep the bloodlines strong without risk of inbreeding. Each has their own carefully isolated physiology. While all of them have the basic highly dense teeth with a highly flammable coating that combines with the combustible liquid excreted in the beast's impervious stomach. The fierce bloodlines are brazen, and they will happily coat their enemies in their stomach contents and then set it ablaze. The loyal bloodlines are more apt to hold back and protect their families until the last resort. The last, well, They won't even wait to set things on fire and gleefully spew already ignited fluid all over anyone or anything, and since the reaction is completely anaerobic— well, most of them are. We could get into how their inner core is actual nuclear, and they get a lot of their heat and energy from smashing elements together and causing nuclear heat, but I doubt you really want to hear me talk about that."

Odin arched an eyebrow at the dragon master. "I believe you have given me a sufficient explanation. And you have made me wonder if I studied enough in the sciences when I was young, thank you, Dragonmaster Vishon." Odin sighed. "Back when my mother insisted I learn the basics of organic chemistry, King Bör preferred that I learn how to duck and dodge a warhammer. I must confess, even when I hung from the Yggdrasil, I was not doing it to discover the secrets of organic compounds and how space dragons breathe fire."

"Pity," Vishon said with a smile. "I find the complexity of dragon physiology to be most intriguing. So, shall we take a look at the newest batch of hatchlings together? Perhaps you will find some you like enough to keep?"

Odin stroked his beard. "Let's take a look, shall we?"

Vishon smiled broadly.

* * *

"I hear they have dragons down in the cargo hold," Thor said as he looked through the binoculars to the ship docked in the space harbour. " _ **Real**_ dragons! Wouldn't it be glorious if we captured one?"

"If they have them on a ship already, they have already been captured," Loki pointed out.

"I want to _**see**_ them!" Thor exclaimed eagerly.

"Father has closed the harbour," Loki said, moving the game piece on the board in front of him. Small animated animals bounced around the board in response to his move.

Marit frowned at the board, picking up a fuzzy spider game piece and moving it, and it squeaked cutely with each little hop.

Loki moved his piece. "I win!"

Suddenly, the fluffy spider shot silk at Loki's game piece, tied it up and performed a victory dance on top of it.

Loki narrowed his eyes, a beam of ice magic shooting out of his finger and zapping the victorious spider.

"Eeeeee!" the spider squeaked, tumbling off the game board.

Marit scowled, scooping up the de-boarded game piece, and it made a beeline for her hair and dove into it. She glowered at Loki, using her hand to brush the other game pieces into the box, folded the board, and closed it. She stood up, grabbed the picture book from the table, and stormed off to a nearby tree, sitting under it. As she reached to turn the page, the fluffy spider scurried down and flipped it for her then ran back in to hide in her hair again.

Loki slumped. "Come on, Ree, don't be like that."

Marit turned her head away from him, pointedly averting her gaze.

Loki trudged over to her conjuring an ice flower in his hand. "I was just mad that you always win at that game."

Marit said nothing as the spider turned another page.

Loki put the flower between his teeth and peered over the edge of her book.

Marit's eyes flicked over to him. "You look ridiculous."

Loki wiggled his brows. "All-Father does it when he really wants to apologise to mother. Does it work?"

Marit closed the picture book. "I— have no idea. Is the flower magical?"

Loki shrugged. "I made it, does that count?"

Marit took the pale blue and white flower and sighed. "I forgive you."

Loki beamed even as the fluffy spider chittered at him in spider-ese.

"Hey, I _**made**_ you!" Loki protested.

The spider glared at him with all eight jeweled eyes.

"So not fair," Loki pouted, crossing his arms. "I make you, and you go turn traitor on me."

The fluffy spider squeaked something at him and dove into Marit's long, curly hair.

"He says you're mean to him," Marit said. "You're a horrible spider-friend."

Loki frowned. "I don't even know what a good spider friend is."

"That's silly," Marit replied easily. "Just be a friend."

Loki crossed his arms across his chest again. "I am a prince. I refuse to open doors for spiders."

Angry squeaking came from beneath Marit's hair.

"You're jealous," Marit said, rubbing the spider under the belly, causing him to squeak adoringly.

"I am not!" Loki protested, his face puckering.

"Are too," she replied.

Loki looked like he wanted to protest again, but she gave him the eye over the rim of her book. "It's not fair. You see me so plain, but no one else does."

"You mummy does. She sees way more than she lets on," Marit said. "I think she has eyes on the back of her head."

"She does not! I checked!" Loki argued.

Marit laughed. "You _really_ checked?"

Loki turned his reddened face away. "Maybe." He turned his face away. "Somehow mother figured out Thor and I found the biscuit jar."

"I just ask my mummy for biscuits when I want one."

Loki crossed his arms again. "What fun is that?" He frowned. "Besides, if I don't find them first, Thor eats them all and then _**I**_ get blamed."

"I think you need to sort out your priorities," Marit said, patting her spider. "You get more biscuits if you finish your lessons from Lady Bestla."

"Wait, she gives you biscuits?" Loki asked in disbelief. His eyes narrowed. "Where are you picking up such adult talk. Sorting out my priorities. You sound like— like—"

Marit shook her head. "My father."

"Heimdall!" Loki said at the same time.

They peered at each other and burst out laughing, all forgiven. Marit extended out her fluffy spider for Loki to pet, and he patted it gently.

Marit made a gesture, pulling something out from behind his ear and opened her palm exposing a miniature fluffy grey fish with a red, sparkling belly. It had perfectly shiny, sharp looking teeth and bright blue eyes.

"For me?" Loki asked, his voice squeaked in excitement.

Marit rolled her head to the side. "For your brother."

Loki looked hurt for a moment and then realised he was being had. He grabbed the little miniature Pira fish— that looked just as vicious as his mother's real things in her garden fountain— and hugged it close to his face. The fish burbled, letting loose an operatic belch of music.

Loki pounced Marit, hugging her tightly. "You're the best, Marit." He paused. "How did you—?"

Marit pointed to the fluffy spider. "He taught me."

Loki's jaw dropped, the gears turning in his head almost audibly. He stared at the little spider accusingly. "What else do you know?"

Eight jeweled eyes glared back at him in silence.

The red-bellied mini-Pira air-swam over to the spider and burped out a short chain of musical notes. The spider squeaked back. They exchanged back and forth frantically for a few minutes and then quieted. The spider scurried back into Marit's hair, and the miniature Pira swam back to Loki and dove into his collar, just covered by his unruly black hair.

The two children grinned at each other, sharing their secrets in smug silence. The both of the went still at the same time, their heads turning at the exact same time to stare at the place Thor had been only a few minutes previous. His binoculars were sitting in the dirt, forgotten.

" _ **Dragons!"**_ they both cried together.

Loki gave Marit a hand up and they grabbed the forgotten binoculars and ran toward the spaceport as fast as their legs could carry them.

* * *

"Come on," Loki held out his hand. "Jump to me!"

Marit shook her head as the hoverboard wavered side to side under Loki's feet. "Nuh-uh."

"It's easy, come on, Ree," Loki coaxed. "Don't you trust me?"

Marit scowled, her face puckering. "I don't trust the board," she said, eyeing the hoverboard rather suspiciously.

"Come on," Loki said, waving his hand. "You can always trust me."

"Trust you to bring my slippers to life and run off with my dad's helm," Marit muttered.

Loki gave her a grin, but his hand remained out. "You trust me though, don't you, Ree?" His eyes shifted from an ice blue to an intense blue-green. A small pout tugged at the corners of his lips. "You'll always be able to trust me," he said.

Marit bit her lip and then squared her shoulders. She took his hand and jumped off the ledge onto the hoverboard. It lurched a bit, and she let out a sharp squeal, but Loki's hand clamped around her wrist as he steadied the board. He smiled at her. "Arms around my waist ok? Hold on tight."

Marit didn't need to be told twice as she wrapped herself around his back like a clingy codependent octopus. Loki made the hoverboard shoot off toward the docks. "Remember that spell mother was trying to teach us?"

"I haven't figured it out yet," Marit said. "Almost, though— I just can't go fully invisible. If people are looking hard enough, they can see a shimmer when I move."

Loki grinned at her. "I've been practicing," Loki said with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. He snapped his fingers and they disappeared from sight in a flash, board and all.

Marit's squeal of terror was the only giveaway to their location.

* * *

Thor crawled over the pile of cargo containers, slipping by the hustling crewmen as they moved cargo in and out of the boarding platform. The call of _real_ dragons led him as surely as the lure of his mother's extra-special secret recipe chocolate chip shortbreads. Sif would enjoy the tales of his glory and valor over the mighty, fearsome dragon. Maybe he could even subjugate one to his will and bring her back a scale or something. Then all the others would surely see he was a _true_ hero.

Thor grabbed the strange, rubbery tool he'd seen the people using. He shook it around, trying to get it to do what he'd seen it to, and it smacked into his face, wrapping around his head and covering his eyes. "Grrrk!" was all he managed to say, crashing to the ground as he fought to pry it off. The tool simply wrapped even more tightly around his face, smacking him around and forcing his head down to the floor of the ship.

Thor gave out a gasp as air suddenly flooded back into his lungs with a burning, rasping wheeze. He looked up to find Loki staring down at him, his brother's face mirroring Odin's scowl of disapproval with a downright eerie degree of accuracy.

"What in the Nine Realms do you think you're doing?!" Loki hissed. "Father is going to _murder_ us if he finds us in here!"

"You're here too," Thor pointed out rather smugly.

"To save your stupid carcass and hopefully prevent you from getting us all in trouble! _Again!_ "

"Oh, yeah? What's _she_ doing here then?" Thor cockily taunted his brother, pointing to a scowling Marit.

Loki turned his head to see Marit perched beside one of the open cargo holds, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. Loki's expression showed clear relief, and he turned. "She's worried about you too, you know. You're always running off trying to do something gloriously stupid and somehow we _**all**_ end up having to scrub out mother's Pira pond with a toothbrush!"

"Not if I bring back a dragon tooth!" Thor said, he grabbed his much smaller brother by the shirt and charged into Marit, shoving them both into the open cargo hold. He slammed his hand on the glowing button beside the hold, and the doors swooshed shut in a rush, almost taking off Loki's hands as he reached up to try and prevent the doors from shutting and trapping them inside.

Loki pounded on the side of the hold door, his voice silenced, but his expression more than annoyed if not slightly comical due to the fact that the door was huge and Loki was most definitely _not_.

Thor scowled, realising that Loki had climbed up on a small ledge inside the cargo container, scowling up at Thor through the window-lid and pounding on it with all his strength in an attempt to get someone's attention.

It was really odd, he thought. Loki's breath was steaming up the cargo window. He must be screaming pretty hard because he looked like he was turning blue. Thor just shook his head. "Breathe, brother. When all this is over, I'll have some great stories to win over father."

Thor picked up the tool that had so thoroughly thrown him to the floor, convinced that this time he was going to win. This time, the glory and praise would be all _**his**_. The adults always told such tales around the dinner table, and for once, he wanted it to be his story that soaked up the praise.

He turned his back on his brother and his nosey friend— he really didn't see anything in her. She was always reading her books, learning different languages with the tutor, and would rather play at spells like his brother than pick up a sword and be a hero like he or Sif would.

Spells were just so— unmanly.

Thor looked back over his shoulder. Loki wasn't looking very happy from behind that door. Still, if he had a nice warhammer, that door would've been _toast_. That's what spells got you: trapped and helpless behind a cargo bay door with no way out. Heh. Heh. Heh.

"Just you wait," Thor said, squaring his shoulders. "I'm going to be a hero today. I'll come back for you when I'm done, okay, brother?"

* * *

" _ **RAAGHHHHH!**_ " Loki yelled, slamming his fists on the window of the cargo hold. Clouds of frozen vapour swirled around his face and frosted up the window. He beat on the window, screaming at his brother in a chain of insults that could have only come from listening a little too well to the adults around the dinner table long after the kids were supposed to be in bed, sleeping. His shoulders quaked as he continued his relentless assault on the door. His skin took on a deeper, darker, blue tint, becoming more and more obviously cobalt as crimson swallowed his eyes with a deeper, murderous ruby.

"Loki," Marit called.

Either he ignored her or didn't hear her over the sounds of his own rage. The door was frosting over as arctic cold wafted off his body.

" _ **LOKI!"**_ Marit yelled, raising her voice in a rare moment of fright.

Loki spun to face her. " _ **WHAT?!"**_

Marit cringed, stepping backward, and the moment she did, Loki's face paled as he hopped down from the ledge and rushed over to comfort her.

"Ree? Ree, don't cry. I'm so sorry!" he hurriedly apologised. "Please don't cry. I was just so mad. Thor always goes and does stupid stuff like this. He always— Ree?"

He placed a hand on her arm, and a sudden jolt of magic surged up her arm, crackling as it went. She gave a sharp cry of surprise, her body jerking spasmodically as if she'd touched a live wire. Loki recoiled in horror, staring down at his hands. He touched his hands, rubbing them frantically. "What's wrong with me? What's _wrong_ with me?!" he dug his fingers into his skin. "I didn't cast anything— I _swear_ I didn't—" He beat against his arms as though trying to brush away a swarm of stinging insects.

" _Nonononononono!_ This can't— I'm not— _**NO!**_ " He stared in nothing short of horror as the strange blue of his skin grew ever darker. Distinctive grooved markings formed over every inch of his exposed skin, raised up like a series of ornate scars. His face twisted in anguish as he seemed to realise all at once what it meant. Frost was spreading and crackling all around him, on the walls of the container, in the air and across his very blue skin.

"I'm not— I'm a _**monster!**_ " Loki cried, tearing at his hair. His vision was changing. Colours were shifting. Some were becoming brighter, almost blinding, while others were growing dim and monochrome.

Marit's teeth chattered and she rubbed her arms. "Loki!" Her teeth chattered audibly and her pale skin began to turn blue— his vision flickered between seeing her normally and the darkening vision that exposed other things in unfamiliar radiance.

"Ree?" Loki hurried over pulling her to himself as he saw Odin do to Frigga when she forgot her shawl before going out into the garden. He rubbed her skin with his hands, and her skin gave off a distinctive scent of the jasmine soap she favoured..

Marit pulled closer to him, clinging to him as her teeth chattered. "I'm scared," she whispered.

Loki winced. "'Fraid of me, Ree?"

"Don't be a silly twit, Loki," she chattered. "I'm afraid what father is going to do to me when he finds out I sneaked onto a dragonship and got myself up locked inside a cargo bay with you."

Loki paled at that, his cobalt skin shifting to a light sky blue. His eyes looked disturbingly pink. "All Father is going to beat us upside the head with his spear."

"Maybe you should freeze me to death so I don't have to worry about that anymore," Marit said, snuggling closer to him fearfully.

Loki's tension seemed to ebb away as her hand closed around his.

"I really like your colour. Not like mine at all," she said with a smile. "I think I'd rather be blue."

"You're biased," Loki said with a frown. "You've always loved blue ever since we were babies. Mother always said it was a sign of your defiance at being born a girl."

Marit squeaked. "The queen said that about _me?_ "

Loki gave her a cheeky grin. He looked at the door and back. "You did it again."

"Did what?"

"I can never stay angry when you touch me," Loki said.

"I can never stay afraid when you touch me," Marit said, smiling.

Loki frowned. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

Marit shook her head. "It wasn't you— not your skin, anyway. You are just— sometimes, you get really scary when you're yelling at your brother. It's like your hair is on fire and you can't even hear me when I call your name."

"Having my hair on fire would be _really_ cool!" Loki said with a grin.

She rolled her eyes. "You're not a monster, Loki. Don't let yourself think that a little change in appearance makes you somehow less Loki. You're _always_ Loki."

He frowned and then looked into her eyes. Her large eyes glowed softly, shimmering like molten gold.

"You know what? I'll tell you a little secret."

Loki perked.

"I look a little different too."

Loki stared at her.

She stood and took a deep breath. "Sometimes it doesn't work— will you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you, Ree."

" Hit me."

"What?"

"Make it hurt."

Loki just stared at her. "I can't— You're a girl!"

Marit glared back at him. "Just hit me, Loki. Pretend that I'm Thor and I just locked you in a cargo hold of a dragonship."

Loki's black hair stood on end, and his jaw clenched. He swung, hitting her on the shoulder.

Marit went tumbling backwards, and Loki rushed to her side. "Ree, I'm _**so**_ sorry! I—"

Marit stood up, her eyes glowing like twin suns, flickering from a warm yellow to red to an icy blue. Flames flowed across her body as her skin turned the colours of fire— but not just orange fire. She was every colour of every fiery sun, the flames flickering across her skin as they consumed her childish body. Intense heat rose off of her in waves— and even the fluffy spider was on fire— consumed along with its mistress' transformation into a creature of flames. She stormed forward to the door of the cargo bay and pressed her small "hands" up against the door. The flames turned a bright, blinding blue-violet white. The metal of the door instantly warped and twisted with a horrible **screeching** sound as the metal both bent and began to slag, melting into molten droplets that sizzled on the floor of the ship.

Fire runes, bright white, ran across her "skin" of fire— much as his did on his frozen, alien skin. Loki stared at her in wonder. "You're _amazing_ , Ree," he said softly.

The fire spirit that was Marit seemed to smile, but the flames faded as she collapsed into a heap, all of her energy spent. Loki grasped her to him quickly, keeping her from hitting her head. "I've got you, Ree."

Loki touched her flame-fading skin with his blue fingers, tracing the ghost of white bands of runes on her skin.

"Told you. You aren't a monster," she whispered, her head resting lightly on his chest.

Loki hugged her tight just as the ship lurched warningly underneath them— the familiar rumble of engines roaring to life as the ship took off from the port.

"We're in _**so**_ much trouble," Loki moaned.

Marit swallowed hard. "Daddy might know where we are."

Loki's skin took on the more normal Asgardian appearance. "I don't think even Heimdall could have predicted looking here for us, Ree. You okay?"

Marit nodded. "I think so. Doing that— it takes a lot out of me. Mummy says I have to grow into it. It keeps babies from burning down their homes."

Loki stared at his hands, which looked "normal" once more. "Mother and father never said anything about turning blue." He turned his face away. "Blue is for Jötunn. The enemy."

"Father says the Jötunn haven't tried to attack Ásgarðr in ages," Marit offered. "Mummy says you're only as good or as bad as your own deeds."

"Great start we're off to," Loki said, staring off to where he believed his brother had left in his foolish quest for glory. His fists clenched, and he looked back at Marit with a worried, pained expression. "You won't hate me if I'm a monster, will you, Ree?"

"You'll _never_ be a monster," she replied sweetly. "You'll _always_ be my best friend, Loki."

"Besides," she added.

Loki lifted his head.

"I've always wanted a Hel-hound puppy," she added with a mischievous grin.

Loki cracked a smile. "I guess I'll have to pay more attention to my shape-shifting magic."

"Guess I'm going to have to keep up with you," she said with a wink.

"Hang on to your valuables, kiddies, we're going to warp until we can find the hyperlane to Chelabos for our next appointment. Try not to break anything, like your heads." A rough voice blared over the ship-wide intercom, male and cocky.

The floor rumbled as the engines switched from impulse to warp as the subspace bubble formed around their warp drives. The floor and sides of the ship seemed to shake as the field stabilised and contracted space in front of the ship while expanding the space behind with a distinctive sensation of having one's ears pop.

Loki and Marit exchanged glances, swallowing hard.

"If we manage to survive this," Loki said.

"Our fathers are going to _kill_ us," Marit moaned.

* * *

Thor climbed up onto the platform where multiple light panels swirled around him.

"Egg chamber for accelerated DNA resequencing primed," a computer voice said. "Sequencing on hold. Operation will timeout in T-minus 120 seconds."

Thor watched as multiple pictures of dragons came up across the screens. Swirling three-dimensional strands of deoxyribonucleic acid chains hung suspended in the air like intricate chains of webbing, as if certain key pieces were… missing.

Thor punched a random button.

"Extreme hyper-protective genotype crossed with close bonding to family unit to counter heightened aggressiveness. Strongly recommend the addition of non-aggressive gene markers to stabilise this highly dangerous cross—"

Thor punched a button under the picture of the fierce-looking black dragon. "Awesome!"

"Warning," the computer voice chimed. "Addition of Sector 1525-B Series strain will make resulting offspring capable of ten out of ten physical and fire-damage. Imprinting protocol will be enforced. Do not engage hatching cycle until candidate is present for hatching."

"What?" Thor asked the computer. He punched another button.

"Color selec—"

Plunk.

"Aggressiveness warni—"

Plunk. Bink.

"Acid-based fac—"

Plunk. Dink. Fweep.

"Warning, Eta Carinae strain dragonflame reaches maximum temperatures of—"

Bleep. Tink. Beewoop.

"Egg DNA resequencing and acceleration cycle engaged," the computer droned. "Warning. Hatching chamber will be locked down until the chosen trait parameters have been successfully implanted into the selected embryo and the growth sequence is then initiated. Scanning chamber for required imprinting target. Please standby."

"Sweet, I'm going to have my very own dragon!" Thor cried excitedly, hopping off the platform and running to the adjoining chamber.

The huge, neutronium doors slid closed just before he got through them.

"Imprinting targets scanned. Doors sealed until process completes. Forcefield reinforcement engaged."

" _What?!"_ Thor fumed, stomping his foot in frustrated pique. "That's _my_ dragon in there!"

"Have a nice day," the computer chimed calmly, the relevant consoles and panels turning themselves off and going dark.

"Warning," a male computer voice droned. "Lockdown and preparation for emergency ejection of incubation chamber protocol engaged. Awaiting verification of proper imprinting sequence on selected candidate. Doors will remain sealed until cycle completes."

Thor pouted, sitting down on the nearby seat to sulk. A panel bleeped and a tray came out of the wall with a sandwich and a drink on it. He eyed the food suspiciously, but his stomach rumbled, so he grabbed it and bit into it, forgetting his woes for the time being.

* * *

"Well, well, Bro'kah," the unshaven grey-skinned alien said, baring his unnaturally yellow teeth. "Prepare to be boarded."

"Shovakah, you slather-faced piece of dragon-shit," the captain yelled at the viewscreen. "Are you smoking krovuss or eating it? This is a dragonship, not a luxury liner. There is nothing here but a thousand tons of dragon dung and the dragons that made it, and we all know your species gets along with dragons about as well as a black hole and a wormhole getting it on."

Shovakah sneered on the viewscreen. "Oh, I sealed off your little dragonholds, Bro'kah. We'll be boarding and coming for your hyperdrive. There is big market for that shiny piece of hardware— and your spice, of course."

The captain narrowed his eyes. "You ambushed us for handful of spice?" he said with a scowl.

"Oh, come on now, Bro'kah," the grey-skinned pirate taunted. "Who are we but slaves to the changing market?" His long fingers drummed together as he exposed his blackened, shiny teeth. "You may think me a stupid pirate, Bro'kah, but I cater to a need, and that need is on your ship. Now, being a understanding type, I can take what I need and leave you to crawl to some sympathetic milk-sucker planet, or I can trash your little dragon-bus and make sure everything you care about blows out into the vacuum of space."

The captain's knuckles whitened in response.

"Knowing you, the bleeding heart, you probably have females on your ship." Shovakah smiled cruelly. "Suckerlings."

"See?" the pirate captain said, his black teeth shining. "I knew that would get your attention. "Now, open your boarding hatch," he said dangerously, "or we will cut our way in and let all your oxygen blow into space."

Bro'kah clenched his jaw, his jagged teeth dripping with foam. "Open the hatch," he told the bridgecrew. "Prepare to be boarded."

Shovakah smiled. "I knew you'd see it my way, old 'friend'."

The ship shook and the room went completely dark. After a few minutes, tiny lights put out a minor glow that did not light the interior of the ship as much as it kept people from tripping over their own toes.

"Oops," the grey alien said. "Did I forget to mention we'll be draining your energy batteries too?"

"Has anyone told you that you have a shitty personality?" Bro'kah seethed through tightly gnashed teeth.

"My entire crew, all the time," Shovakah replied.

* * *

"I'm scared!" Marit said. The darkness in the once highly lit chamber was now thick enough to spread on toast.

Loki squeezed her hand in his. "It's going to be okay, Ree, you'll see. Father says the dragonships are really durable. Someone probably… smashed a bug on the switchboard somewhere."

Marit giggled and squirmed. "That tickles, Loki!"

"I didn't— _eeheheehehEHHEHEHE!_ " Loki burst out into laughter as something hit all his ticklish spots. "Marit, stop tickling me!"

"I'm not!" she gasped. "You're tickling _me_!"

Suddenly, the chamber began to light up as a strange, dragon-shaped glow came from all around them.

Loki and Marit looked up together as a giant dragon hunkered in the "small" space, his neck bent to keep his head from hitting the ceiling. His body seemed to be made of swirling stars and nebulae across a field of midnight blue. The stars and celestial patterns moved across and inside the beast in a self-contained galaxy.

"Nnngggghhhhhh!" the dragon rumbled, sounding like a low-singing whale. A bright orange-yellow tongue shot out and pegged them both, sending them tumbling in different directions. Even his tongue shifted colour, phasing from the golden colour of a Class-G star to the blinding brilliance of a Class-O blue star.

 _ **Slurp.**_

 _ **SLURP.**_

 _ **SHHHHLLLLURRRP!**_

Loki and Marit went sprawling over the dragon's sinuous tail. The beast crooned and rumbled, gently bumping into them with its head and nosing them over, bathing them in a thick, sticky coating of cosmic dragon drool.

The two children wiped the shimmering drool away from their faces. They stared at their skin as the strange fluid shone and glowed before disappearing into their pores. Then they began to feel an intense, **itching** sensation that drove them to scratch themselves frantically in hope of relief..

The dragon stared at them, eyes like swirling nebulae.

Loki and Mari swayed back and forth as their eyes took on a similar, cosmic glow. They both reached out and placed their hands on the dragon's large nostrils, it's breath moving against them like the blast from a powerful bellows.

"Bonding process complete. Airlock forced evacuation procedures halted."

"Warning, incubation area remains in lockdown due to boarding emergency protocol. Backup power engaged. Food replicators are available for both dragonet and imprint candidates. Have a nice day!"

A beautiful **azure blue** cake decorated with **hot pink** dragons, complete with cutlery and plates materialised in front of them along with a rather large, green-fleshed haunch of something _very_ dead— or at least it resembled something very dead.

The dragon snatched up the **sickly green** -coloured haunch of some unknown alien beast and chewed happily, making contented munching noises as Loki picked up the cake knife and stared at it. "Well, she _did_ tell us we were in lockdown," he mused. "At least we have cake?"

"And… a dragon?" Marit said, looking upward. An odd, peaceful expression crossed her face as the dragon purred, tail curving around the two of them as they enjoyed their cake.

"Well, you _did_ say you wanted a Hel-hound puppy," Loki mused. "Maybe if we are allowed a dragon, we can get a puppy too?"

Marit pressed her face against the dragon's muzzle, the steamy breath ruffling her wild curls into disarray. "I think it should be the other way around. Puppy first. Dragon second."

Loki passed her a glass of blue-tinged milk that appeared in a glass in front of them. "Spason milk?"

Marit giggled, taking the glass. "Thanks, Loki." She peered at him over the glass, taking a sip and giving herself a blue mustache.

Loki grinned at her. "You're right. Blue does make things better."

Marit wiped the milk from her mouth and shoved him playfully. "At least you finally admit that blue is better."

Loki drank his milk and stuffed a piece of cake into his mouth. He looked up at the dragon that was staring intently down at them. "Father is going to have a _lot_ of questions."

Marit sighed. "My father doesn't even have to _ask_. I just tell him. He always knows when I'm lying."

"You mean _if_ you actually lied," Loki pointed out. "You _don't_ lie. Not even to joke."

Marit stared at him.

"I'm not even sure you could lie if you wanted to," Loki teased. "You might spontaneously combust."

"Careful, wouldn't want your words to freeze on your tongue," she retorted.

The pair stared at each other, scowling, then burst into laughter.

The dragon above them blasted the spot they were in with his cosmic breath weapon.

A dome of fire surrounded a second dome of ice, cracking and splitting away to expose the two children. The children looked wide eyed at the overgrown dragonet as it gave a smaller hiccup and coughed up a bone.

"Say 'excuse me'!" Marit scolded, her eyebrows were flames that danced over her eyes, changing from orange to blue and back again.

The dragon hung its head and nuzzled them, making soft apologetic rumbles.

The two children patted the dragon's nostrils.

"It's okay," Loki said. "You're learning too."

The ship rumbled and lurched, and the floor beneath them shifted suddenly, sending them tumbling again, but this time the dragon's tail looped protectively around them and held them close to it, its claws dug into the metal plating of the ship floor to hold itself in place.

"I—I'm not sure we should try and tell them we're here," Loki said. "Father said the dragonships are really well built. They don't just fail. What if something is going on— something dangerous?"

Marit looked around. "In a ship full of dragons like him?"

"Hrrrrrrrr?" the dragonet said.

"I don't think he's a normal dragon," Loki speculated. "He looks like all the things my brother would want in a perfect—"

The two looked at each other at the same time and groaned, "Thor."

* * *

"I'm telling ya, Shovakah," the dark purple alien said, his eye stalks looking down at the kid he had grasped by the arm. "This mammal looks familiar."

"All milk-suckers look the same to me, Dashko," Shovakah said with a sneer.

"Keep your hands off me! Do you have any idea who I am!" the kid yelled.

"A worthless mammal," Shovakah replied. "Shouldn't you be sucking on your mother's teat?"

Dashko had the boy pinned by his head as he tried to take swings at him. "Unhand me! I am Thor Odinson! I will tear you apart!"

Shovakah turned, pausing as his torch stopped cutting through the sealed doors. "Oh— really?" the alien captain said, elongating every syllable with interest. "Since when does Bro'kah take in little puling princes?"

Dashko nudged him. "Shovakah, if it's true, someone might be 'worried' about him."

Shovakah narrowed his eyes. "I've known Bro'kah for decades. He's fettered by honour and taking care of his people. If he was hosting some milk-sucker royalty, he would have squirreled him away someplace safe before we boarded like he did with the other females and their suckerlings."

"I came here all by myself!" Thor yelled, still trying to take swings at the larger alien, "And I will smite you with all the power of Ásgarðr!"

Shovakah sniffed. "Go shove him in the hold with the crew. I have no time for suckerlings today. Whether they imagine themselves godlings whatever Realm. Bro'kah will transform into something we don't want to see if he finds out we killed one of his brats, and we want him to be around for the next raid. I paid good money for this Neutronium cutter, and I intend to get to Bro'kah's stash of dragon-egg spice and go drinking swavek on Brekken-Ceta Prime while the crew busies themselves with spending their monies on whatever they so desire."

Shovakah ignited his hand torch and set to work again on the reinforcing doors to the incubation chamber.

"Aye, capt'n," Dashko said grabbing the boy by the hair and dragging him off towards the hold, completely ignoring Thor's struggles and howls of outrage.

" _My father shall hear of this, pirate!"_ the boy bellowed. " _How dare you ignore a prince of Ásgarðr!"_

Shovakah curled his lips away from his blackened teeth. "I _hate_ suckerlings."

* * *

When Shovakah finally broke down the Neutronium door and stepped into the incubation chamber, he was greeted by two children who were quietly playing a board game on the floor of the chamber. A half-eaten cake and empty drink glasses sat nearby.

"You, where is the spice?" he demanded.

The children stared at him with wide eyes.

"What spice?" one said.

 _Is that one male or female?_ Shovakah wondered. _It's so hard to tell with these mammals._ Why was he even asking them? They were obviously suckerlings at best. Small, like the other one, only less loud and obnoxious.

"You will stay right there," he commanded.

He headed to the storage area.

"Warning. Breach detected in incubation chamber. Unable to seal containment doors. Ejection protocol impossible. Diverting power to containment shields. Nanobot clouds released. Use of Tranquillian Spice recommended as dragons present. Estimated time for nanobot repair is— ninety minutes."

Bleep.

The ship voice made odd beeping noises as the ship seemed to rumble under them.

"Containment field engaged. We apologise for any inconvenience this may have caused," the cheery female computer voice said.

"I really wouldn't go that way," the black-haired suckerling said, a strange floating fish with a red belly moving his game piece across the board for him.

"Baby is taking a nap," the curl-haired suckerling informed him. A small fluffy arachnid bounced up and down on its shoulder and parachuted down onto the game board on a delicate-looking strand of silk.

The grey alien captain sneered, shaking his head in disgust. "Whatever little pet you have in there is no concern of mine, stupid mammal," he snapped, storming off to locate his hard-won spoils.

"We _warned_ you," the black-haired one said with a unconcerned shrug..

The children continued to play their game as the pirate's frantic screams were drowned out by roars of space-reptilian fury and a subsequent blast of solar flame consumed the erstwhile alien captain.

"Oxygen shunted into containment chamber. Warning. High temperatures have been detected in incubation area. Venting affected chambers into open space. Please remain in containment area where atmospheric life support is in place. Thank you, and have a nice day."

Rumble.

Thump.

Thud. Thump. Thump. Thump.

"Good boy, Brynjar," Loki said fondly, moving his game piece. "HAH! Finally I win!"

The space dragonet gave an unconcerned, less-wrathful yawn and curled up around the shimmering force field that was surrounding the two children.

Bleep.

Whirrrrr.

Bleep.

"Gravity and life-support now restored. Containment fields are disengaged," droned the computer.

Brynjar slaver-slurped his two most important people and kept watch over the room as the two children played on.

The tiny mini-Pira belched a symphonic cheer as the plush spider bounced up and down on Marit's shoulder.

* * *

"Daddy!" Marit jumped into Heimdall's arms as he spun her around and gave her a hug. "Brynjar, please don't eat Daddy."

The dragonet snuffled Heimdall and gave him an experimental slurp. Heimdall dripped, caught between being impressed and scowling. The scowl didn't last as his daughter wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "We were scared, but Brynjar saved us!" she said as Loki leapt into Frigga's arms and gave an almost identical hug to his mother.

"You did very well staying out of danger once you realised trouble was looking for you, love," he said, pressing his forehead to hers.

"We didn't mean to get in trouble," Marit insisted. "We were trying to find Thor."

Heimdall looked at the relieved Frigga and nodded. "I know, sweetling. I saw."

"Daddy sees _everything_ ," Marit said proudly, patting his face with her hands, turning his scowl into a smile with her fingers.

"Not everything," he said. "Sometimes not fast enough to keep up with you and Loki."

Marit and Loki exchanged glances. They grinned mischievously.

"Oh, no," Heimdall said, recognising the conspiratory exchange. "You've done quite enough today, young lady."

"Awww, but Byrnjar was worth it!"

Heimdall looked towards Odin, who had a grip on his errant son by the collar of his shirt as he spoke with the captain of the dragonship. "You saved an entire ship. I think that is reason enough for All-Father to negotiate terms for keeping him." He ruffled her hair with his hand. "Having a dragon is a big responsibility. You will ask for help, you and Loki, if you are ever need assistance, yes?"

"Yes, daddy," she said, nose wrinkling. "Lady Frigga said we have to introduce him properly to the guards so he doesn't eat people."

Heimdall looked at Frigga who had an amused look on her face, the wrinkles around her eyes accenting her mirth.

"That would be preferable, yes," Heimdall agreed.

Thor looked like he was trying to sneak away from Odin's side, but the one-eyed god slammed his spear down in front of him, blocking his retreat. Thor jumped, startled, and sheepishly stepped back next to Odin.

"According to the computer logs— and it was Gollylarg's lazy backside who left the computer on standby in the middle of a sequencing order— it seems your elder son has managed to construct a dragon of legend, King Odin," Bro'kah said. "I apologise that such a thing was even possible, but we are not accustomed to children playing on our DNA resequencer. Females and children tend to stay in the living quarters just in case dangerous dragons are hatched."

"It seems," Odin replied, "that Fate had other plans. Perhaps you might be floating out in space without a warp drive or your Tranquil Spice."

"Dragonmaster Vishon collects a little from every hatching from the traces on the hatched shells," Bro'kah said. "It's in an unhatched egg in abundance to keep the dragonet tranquil and tapers off so it will get restless and hatch. For dragons, it is a natural and powerful tranquilizer, but somehow—"

"People found out it was a powerful drug for non-dragons too," Odin mused.

Bro'kah shook his head. "I'd known Shovakah from back when we were both young and trying to prove ourselves. While we both started with different lives, his began in the slums where he woke every day the the grumble of his own stomach. His life turned to piracy, while I fell into this crew back when Captain Farkooth ran it. He treated me like family— the ship was home. Still, Shovakah respected me enough from our old days to not kill anyone aboard my ship— but I can't say he didn't deserve his fate. He left my ship and my families alone or at least alive and untouched. He couldn't do anything with the dragons themselves because the breeders are all imprinted. We had a truce, of sorts. I think every so often he wanted to make sure I remembered him, and me— in memory of what we had—and probably to remind me that we had a shared past so I wouldn't go noble and try to turn him in. In truth, I believe he was a lonely soul, surrounding himself in the familiar and stolen pleasures to hide his loneliness. When we were together, we went from feast to famine for over a decade. But the stars— those were our common ground. We would lay on our backs, sharing our meager scraps, dreaming of a time when we wouldn't be starving, when we wouldn't be restricted to staring at the same four moons of our planet. I had always thought it would always be us against the galaxies. Us against everything."

The alien captain sighed. "But, we owe you a tremendous debt for saving our ship—"

"We are quite even, captain Bro'kah," Odin assured him. "You have returned my sons safe as well as young Lady Marit, and I am sure Heimdall would tell you this himself."

"Still," Bro'kah said. "Not many children would have the _gathrak_ to tell a space dragonet what to do in a manner that doesn't get them eaten. At that age, anyway. I know you Asgardians tend to age strangely, even compared to my species, but I'm sure you understand that most children are not capable of handling a bond with a space dragon. It consumes them with the flow of overwhelming emotion and instinct, and they go mad."

Odin ran his fingers through his beard. "Those two— as long as they are together, they are capable of very great things, temperance and stability and things those much older would not believe them capable of. One day, they will be powerful, true gods, worthy of Ásgarðr. The one thing they cannot seem to do is keep this one's sense of heroic adventure under control. He is like a rampaging thunderstorm across the land. Destructive and out of control."

Thor shrank, making himself look as small as possible.

"Dragonmaster Vishon has appointments in a few systems that we must attend, but after that, King Odin, she would wish us to return and help tutor your young dragonmasters on how to best handle their new friend. It is a mixture of the kind of genetic traits that would normally have it guarding something you never want accessed, but by some miracle, a the genes for loyalty and strong imprinting remained from the half-completed sequence. Come in time, you will have quite the guard dragon."

"Thank you, Captain Bro'kah. I appreciate your willingness to return for this."

Bro'kah smiled— a flash of sharp teeth and rows of equally sharp teeth behind it. "Vishon asked me to tell you. Have the children sleep with the dragonet together for a few months at least to cement the bond. Once it is, he will be unlikely to feel insecure if they must do other tasks that take them away from him. In space, the dragonet is always with the jenny or the drake until it is old enough to be left to hide within the asteroid belts as the parents travel through the system."

"Somehow, I do not see that as a potential problem," Odin mused as he watched Loki and Marit teaching Brynjar to bow to Lady Frigga. "You can't separate those two with a five ton _krowit_ and a barrel of _grosic_."

Bro'kah's eyes widened. "You know, King Odin," the alien captain said with a chuckle. "You are not—"

"There are times when a king or a god is just a father, worried for the lives of his sons and what will grant them the best for the future—" Odin frowned jerking sharply on Thor's collar as his elder son tried, yet again, to sneak away. "Or what they themselves might do in an attempt to exterminate themselves along the way."

Bro'kah pulled a crystal out of his vest and extended it. "This is the only record of our security cams," he said. "After watching it, I realise you have something very special— and perhaps the secret you are protecting right now is far more important than authorities learning what became of Shovakah and his crew. Besides— his karma caught up with him, and I remember him better as he once was."

The captain rubbed his chin with his elongated fingers. "My wife, you see, is what you might call a Seer. Prophetess. She has visions— premonitions of the cosmic path. Her people have travelled the stars for millennium before those such as mine. My people call them star dancers— they who read the footsteps of the stars. But her place amongst the people is not only to read the prophecies but to remind us of the oldest. He opened a box he had in his pocket to expose a intricate carving on a highly-polished stone— one side a shimmering opalescent blue, one side the colour shifting red to bright blue-white of the burning suns. Two figures were etched there in the stone, their hand and tentacle linked together as a person would hold hands. The figures were alien, sporting the elongated head-crests of a species that was most definitely the captain's and one that looked as if it were crafted from the leftovers of a Earthen Elder God, yet there was something eerily familiar about the portrayal.

"The Lord of Ice and the Lady of the Suns stave off the end of the universe by halting the cycle of Kro'akah'var by bringing peace to two species raged by war, but, I believe the Asgardians call it— Ragnarök." Bro'kah tilted his head slightly, the gill-like structures on his neck flaring. "I may not be a prophet or a star dancer, King Odin, but I will not be the one who stood in the way of that ancient dance. I happen to quite like the universes just as they are, and it would pain me to lose one.. And if giving you this data crystal protects them a bit longer before other, less well meaning folk, make the connection as I have, then I say it is a gesture well spent."

Odin shifted his weight uneasily. "You saw him—"

" _ **Both**_ of them, King Odin." Bro'kah replied calmly. "My wife wants to preserve the door she melted through as a priceless artefact."

Odin looked toward Loki.

"You may have had your reasons to keep his heritage secret from him before, but she has accepted him without hesitation. He knows he is different now. Now is the time to teach him that blood doesn't matter. Otherwise he will probably think there is something shameful about what he is."

"Loki is my brother! You can't say anything mean about him or I'll break your face!"

"Thor!" Odin snapped. "This is a guest in our kingdom and you will treat him with proper respect!"

Thor looked defiant.

Bro'kah shook his head. "I've had a lot of suckerlings in my time, King Odin. I've also had a good many fosterlings, but I never once kept from them the truth of who and what they were. They grow up knowing I was honest to them, and they use that with the dragons as well. Some of my fosterlings know no home but space and this ship, but they are all family where it matters. Please consider that when you watch that footage."

Odin looked at the crystal in his hand. "Thank you, Captain Bro'kah. I will keep that in mind when I look at it."

A chime on the captain's wrist device bleeped. He poked it with his finger. "Time for me to go. We must make haste to Chelabos." He extended his hand.

They shook hands with a nod.

"I look forward to seeing your return," Odin said.

"Perhaps, on our return we can give you a _real_ tour of the ship— so you don't have to hitchhike on her."

Odin eyed his blond-haired son. "Perhaps, if my son manages to finish scrubbing his mother's Pira fountain in penance for his misdeeds."

Thor cringed at that, hiding behind his father's cape.

Dragonmaster Vishon laughed as she handed Loki and Marit a large container of dragon supplements and a written list of instructions. "You two take very good care of Brynjar. I'll be back to check on him and you very soon."

"Thank you, Dragonmaster Vishon!" the children chimed.

She smiled at them. "You are quite welcome."

* * *

Odin clicked off the viewscreen and plucked the data crystal out of the reader, his one boring a hole into the blackened screen.

"I was right, wasn't I?" Frigga said, gliding behind him and wrapping her arms around him from behind. She placed her head over his in a rare moment of warmth they tended to hide from the public.

Odin turned and stood, taking his wife into a proper hug, pressing his face into her hair and inhaling. "Yes, you were right. She accepted him."

"More than that, husband," Frigga said. "Their magic complements each other. It has since they were infants. Even Heimdall and Kenna know this."

"But will she accept him so unconditionally when she is older and his interest turns to other desires?" Odin asked, his face wrinkled in concern. "Could she accept a Jötunn as a lifemate?"

Frigga snorted softly. "Husband, I know you are weighing other offers from families for betrothals, and Heimdall would never put her name into the pot because he loathes such formalities, but the answer is right in front of you. The choice has already been made. To deny what is already there would only hurt him. He has acceptance, balance. They've been together ever since he tipped over her bassinet and crawled into it with her. I'm telling you, the only one who has his ear other than her is Thor, and that is mostly because they are brothers."

"And half the time, they are trying to beat on each other." Odin sniffed, rubbing his head.

"Well, Thor does like throwing things and breaking things. Loki prefers more subtle methods of persuasion." Frigga smiled. "I'm telling you, husband, he's not going to turn into a mindlessly violent giant the moment he comes of age. Not when he knows he's truly loved and accepted. Sometimes that has to come from outside the family to be believed. There will be no one else for him, husband. Just as there can be no one else for me, my husband king."

Odin's expression softened, and he pressed his lips to her forehead. "My wife, your love for me reminds me why war is not always the answer."

Frigga smiled at him, touching his cheek with her hand. "Now if you could just convince Thor that breaking things is not the answer to everything."

Odin closed his eyes. "There is only so much I can do, my wife."

"You are god, my husband," Frigga said sweetly, "surely one child shall not be your defeat?"

"Why can't young Lady Sif not provide calm and balance as Lady Marit does for our son?"

Frigga gave a feminine shrug. "Because she, too, likes to break things, only she prefers a sword and shield over throwing objects. Her father made her an impressive wooden practice set to keep her out of his weapon rack."

Odin sighed. "Perhaps they are more a match than I want to believe." He frowned grimly. Rubbing his head.

"You had the dream again?" Frigga asked.

Odin took in a deep breath. "Yes. This time I was walking through swirling ash and dust. The air tasted of chemicals. Bodies were everywhere, dessicated and twisted— enemy and ally all the same. I travelled across all nine Realms. All of them were the same, painted in red— in _blood—_ with nothing left of anything we know. The Yggdrasil had no leaves; its limbs were withered and gnarled. The giant wolf, its body skewered with countless spears, bared his teeth at me, walking out from the hole dug under the roots of the great tree. His jaws opened and—"

Frigga touched his cheek and then glided over to the balcony. She extended her hand to him. "Come, husband. Come see. You are normally far too busy holding nine Realms together to see such things."

Odin walked over to his wife, putting his arm around her as he peered into the courtyard.

Down below, Thor was busily (and loudly complaining) while scrubbing Frigga's fountain pond for her Pira-fish. The grey and red fish were swirling around as if they were daring Thor to stick his meaty finger in so they could tear it to pieces. Beautiful as they were, and quite musical after being fed, there was a reason why they were used as garbage disposals on a number of tropical planets. Yet, on the other side of the courtyard, Loki and Marit were waving their hands to answer Lady Gudrun's questions as she tutored them in the subject of the day.

Odin cocked his ear slightly. The subject was apparently a smattering of basic genetics mixed with royal etiquette— teaching them a little about how their new dragon-friend was "different" from the wild space dragon. Unexpectedly, Brynjar was laying down, his belly exposed so the children could lay against him. His glowing eyes seemed to miss nothing, and his ears swiveled to and fro, catching whatever sounds seemed out of place. The young dragonet seemed perfectly happy to laze about as long as his people were nearby.

"That dragon is going to grow rather gargantuan," Odin said, noting how the beast was already filling up the one side of the courtyard. "Even as dragons go."

"I took the liberty of arranging them to have dragon training lessons with Anvindr," Frigga said. "I think our dragonmaster was quite excited about it. Something about not enough young dragon trainers. Too many people who just want to pick up a sword and smack things with it."

Odin made a face. "He _would_ say that."

"You disagree, husband?"

Odin spread his fingers in placation. "Nay, my wife, he is probably correct. We do tend to encourage weapons of relying on allies— even allies such as dragons."

"Yet dragons guard our walls and patrol our skies, often with riders upon them."

Odin nodded. "Hopefully those two will wait awhile before taking to the air with Brynjar."

Frigga smirked, the corners of her mouth tugging into a smile. "Don't count on it. Loki will be the first, and he will have Marit sitting right beside him a heartbeat after that."

Odin looked out over the courtyard again. Thor was still scrubbing away at the Pira fountain, but Lady Gudrun was propped up against Brynjar's tail as she read a book. The two children in question were curled up together, fast asleep in the afternoon sun, having spent their energy and extra enthusiasm all too quickly. A large fluffy spider was bouncing up and down on the edge of the book as a Pira-shaped— something— was darting about the Lady's elaborately braided hair.

 _Did that spider actually turn the page for her?_ Odin blinked, staring a bit more closely. As he stared down at the scene below, he noticed Loki's skin take on a slightly blue tinge, the hint of runes playing over his body— a flux of magic he could sense rather than see. Marit's hand snaked out and touched Loki's arm, and the pair settled again, napping away quite obliviously. All traces of the flare of magic and the change in Loki disappearing as if it had never been. Brynjar yawned toothily, nuzzled them, and settled, laying his head down next to them.

"I seems as though they have already made their choice," Odin mused.

Frigga crossed her arms as she sat on the balcony. "As I was telling you, my husband."

"Nornir be willing," Odin said. "May they remain so when the time comes for him to choose a mate. If they are the children of the prophecy, my wife, I dread what should happen if anything should happen to one or the other."

Frigga frowned. "Pray that it does not happen, my husband king. I dare not imagine what would happen if such a thing were to take this blessed peace from upon his soul."

Odin took his wife's hand and soothed it tenderly with his thumb. "I will close the betrothal bids. Loki, like Thor, shall be free to choose the lady who shall become his queen."

Frigga pat Odin's hand with hers. "They have a lot of growing to do yet, my husband. "Let's give them a thousand years to survive puberty."

Odin shook his head. "We'll need to stock up on toothbrushes," he said, eyeing Thor's attempt to scrub the tile with an oddly rubbery toothbrush. It bounced back and forth and end kept transforming into a Pira head that chomped his nose. "My wife, your strange fascination with your flesh-eating, music bleching fish, has suddenly become more amusing at the expense of our other son."

Frigga smiled. "They are a gift that keeps on giving."

"Did you enchant that—"

Frigga shook her head. "No, husband, I did not."

Odin stared down at the enchanted toothbrush doing its best to torture Thor.

"Loki," he said with a sigh.

"My husband," Frigga said, handing him, him what seemed to be a bowl of rocks. "Perhaps you should stop treating our people and the realms as bowl of stones.

Odin frowned at the bowl, his one eye scanning the collection of pebbles, some sienna brown while others were dark grey. Others were a pristine white. He gazed as his wife, giving her expressive eyebrows.

Frigga dipped her hand into the nearby bowl of water and cupped her fingers. She dribbled water across the surface of the stones

Odin's eye widened as he realised his wife had not given him a bowl of assorted small stones, but the plant nestled within the rocky litter— defiantly clinging to life in the midst of a seemingly inhospitable environment.

"Sometimes, my husband," Frigga said. "A people's will to survive will surprise you. My question for you is: when Thor and Loki come of age, do you wish them to be but another stone or living their lives in defiance of a possible grim future?" Frigga kissed her husband on the cheek, bowed ever so slightly, and swept the room, exiting into the corridor and away.

Odin gently placed the bowl of stones and the hidden plant back on the shelf and stared out over the courtyard. He watched as Lady Frigga plucked up an exhausted Thor from his hard work on the fountain, kissed his wounds of "war" better, and rewarded him for his penance by allowing him to feed the ever-hungry musically-belching fish with carnivorous proclivities.

Thor beamed as he threw a meaty leg bone into the fountain, and the hungry fish descended upon in a wave of motion not unlike a curtain closing. The cleaned bone flew out of the fountain and conked Brynjar on the head. The dragonet rumbled, scowling towards Thor.

Thor waved his hands in appeal even as Frigga placed her hands on the dragon's nose and patted him tenderly. Slowly, cautiously, Thor approached, extending his hand to touch the dragon's muzzle and gently caress the fine expanse of scales.

Odin squared his shoulders resolutely. "I would have us all rise above our natures and become something more," he answered his wife belatedly. "Only then shall we face the approach of Ragnarök on terms of our own choosing."


End file.
